When the Night Comes
by Suburban Sun
Summary: He had no interest in waking her up and pushing her further away. He'd done so much of that already. (Fitz and Simmons fall asleep together on the couch.)


She walked into the living room and stopped short, surprised to see Fitz, Hunter and Bobbi sprawled out across couches and chairs, eyes on the TV.

"Simmons! Join us," said Bobbi, holding up a tumbler of what looked like whiskey. "We're watching Top Gun."

"_You're_ watching Top Gun," Hunter muttered, pouting. Then, to Jemma, "The woman has a thing for Tom Cruise."

Bobbi eyed him from her chair. "I can't help it if historically I like my men short."

"I'm perfectly average height, Bobbi, and you know it!"

"So you're saying I'm the one who's a statistical outlier, huh?"

"I didn't say that, but now that you mention it…"

Jemma watched their bickering with amusement on her face. Her gaze flicked to Fitz, and she saw he already had his eyes on her.

"It's not the worst film in the world," he said, shrugging.

"It is, but have a seat anyway," Hunter broke in. "If I have to suffer through Bobbi singing along to 'You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling'- again- then you should, too."

"I sing like a damn bird, Hunter, and you know it." He scoffed at Bobbi and she rolled her eyes.

Ignoring their banter, Jemma hesitated. The only seat open in the room was on the couch beside Fitz, and she had no idea if he would want her there. For a moment, she thought wildly about perching on an end table or the arm of Bobbi's chair.

Then Fitz nodded, a small smile on his face. "The aerospace and aerodynamics science is utter nonsense, though," he said, gesturing to the TV. She couldn't help but take that as an invitation.

"Oh yeah, and this one's been nitpicking the science behind Top Gun for the better part of an hour, so enjoy that," said Hunter sardonically. Jemma just smirked and took the seat on the couch next to Fitz, maintaining a comfortable distance, and leaned up to take a handful of popcorn from the bowl that rested on the table in front of them.

"So what you're saying is that having a 'need for speed' isn't enough to propel a plane nearly into zero G?" she said, looking at Fitz out of the corner of her eye and popping a few pieces into her mouth.

Fitz nodded, then made a face that Jemma knew unequivocally meant that he was about to begin ranting about improper use of physics in film, which made her grin. It wouldn't be the first time. "Yes, but what I've _also_ been saying is that-"

"Shut up, mate, and watch the movie."

Fitz stopped mid-sentence, shrugging and making a face to Jemma as if to say, "Can you really blame me?" before turning his attention back to the screen. She chuckled, looking down into her lap, pleased that this felt relatively normal. It had been awhile.

The room was darker when Fitz woke up, the glow of the Top Gun DVD menu on the television the only light in the room. Sleepy and disoriented, he took stock of his surroundings.

At some point in the night, Hunter and Bobbi must have cleared out to their respective bunks. He sat in a reclined position on the couch, slumped low and stretched out with his feet up on the coffee table, legs crossed at the ankles. One of his feet seemed to have fallen asleep, tingling as he uncrossed them. And a warm weight pressed against his left side where Jemma had fallen asleep and shifted closer to him, head resting on his shoulder.

He twisted his neck at an awkward angle to look at her. She looked peaceful. She also looked like she might be drooling a little, which made him smile. He had no interest in waking her up and pushing her further away. He'd done so much of that already.

The dark room felt cool, and he craned his neck to see a green throw blanket folded along the back of the couch on the other side of her. His left arm was pinned between himself and Jemma- it was his bad arm, anyway, he noted- so he reached his right one across his body, doing his best to keep his left side still. His fingertips could just reach the blanket, and he pulled it down, spreading it one-handedly over both of their legs before looking back to her face, holding his breath.

She hadn't woken up. He relaxed. The remote control rested on the arm of the couch to his right, so he reached for it, pressing the power button to plunge the room further into darkness, before allowing himself to sink back into the couch and close his eyes.

Jemma stirred awake, stifling a yawn and noting a painful crick in her neck. She blinked her eyes open, brow furrowing in sleepy confusion. Then she stiffened instinctively as she realized where she was, and with whom.

Her legs were sprawled in front of her under a fuzzy green blanket, and she leaned heavily against Fitz. Stealthily removing her head from his shoulder, she turned to see if he was still sleeping. He was, head lolled back against the couch cushions, mouth hanging slightly open.

She turned her head back to face forward, biting her lower lip. They'd barely touched lately, and now they had spent a night completely in each others' personal space. She worried that he would be upset with her when he woke up, however comfortable their interactions had been during the movie the night before. She should get up, she thought, get up and creep back to her bunk and avoid the awkwardness that might ensue if he awoke to find them like this.

But she really, really didn't want to. Defiant in her half-asleep haze, she carefully swung her legs up to curl up on the couch, pressing gently closer to Fitz and ignoring the small voice in her head that protested. Hoping he wouldn't stir, she laid her head back on his shoulder and let herself fall back asleep.

All was quiet as May walked the halls after a particularly challenging workout session, towel in one hand and bottle of water in another. She hadn't been a morning person her whole life, but over the years she'd come to relish the peace of starting the day early.

A shower was first on her agenda, then coffee, then overseeing a training session with Skye and Trip. She mentally planned the rest of her day as she walked back toward her bunk, passing the entrance to the living area only to stop suddenly, taking a step backwards.

Sitting on the couch, sharing a blanket, slept Fitzsimmons. She wasn't sure if she would have believed it if she hadn't seen it herself, given how painfully stilted their interactions had been of late. This was a sight she might have expected from a year prior- her curled up on the couch, head pillowed on his shoulder and one hand on his thigh, him with his feet on the floor, legs tilted fully toward her and head resting atop her own. In sleep, they looked content.

May felt a smile tug at her lips. She would urge the rest of the team to stay out of the area for the next couple of hours. They needed this rest.


End file.
